


Easy Like Sunday Morning

by goldheartedsky



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Bottom Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Clothed Sex, Established Relationship, Fingering, Frottage, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Morning Kisses, Morning Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Sleepy Sex, Top Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Transmasc!Joe supremacy life, Wet & Messy, canon compliant AU, could go either way so pick your poison, horny old man Nicky supremacy, or - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-26 17:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30109173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldheartedsky/pseuds/goldheartedsky
Summary: “Shocked you made it up without me,” he laughs, making the other man turn over his shoulder with a bleary face.“Need coffee,” Joe mutters, rubbing his eyes before yawning. “Nicky’s at store. Breakfast.”Booker nods absentmindedly before crossing the kitchen and pressing a kiss to Joe’s shoulder. His skin is warm and tastes faintly like the thin sheet of sweat that covers them both, and he can’t help but take another mouthful.Or, in which Booker finds a way to pass the time with Joe until Nicky gets back.
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova, Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 17
Kudos: 73





	Easy Like Sunday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> This happened in a blur of a couple days worth of writing and here we are!
> 
> Transmasc!Joe supremacy for life! 🙌🏼
> 
> Note: all language is gender confirming

* * *

  
The sheets stick to Booker’s back as he rolls over on the empty bed.

Nicky’s gone—which isn’t unusual since he tends to wake up at the crack of dawn regardless—but Joe’s also not next to him which is the more surprising part. The last time Joe had woken up before him was a good ten years ago and that was after a particularly rough mission that had taken Booker hours to piece himself back together. On especially warm, sticky summer mornings like this one, Joe would linger for hours in a dream state until Booker and Nicky would finally drag him from the bedroom.

But today, Booker’s hand smoothes over empty sheets as he cracks an eye open and grumbles under his breath.

He’s half-hard from whatever now-lost dream he was having while he was sleeping—erection pushing at the front seams of his underwear—and Booker rolls his hips experimentally against the mattress. He muffles a hissing groan into the pillow before finally peeling himself off the sheets and to his feet.

The tile floors are the only cool thing in the house and feel like heaven against the soles of his feet as he pads silently through the house. The heavy smell of espresso wafts down the hallway as Booker rounds the corner in the kitchen.

His heart skips a beat at the wash of freckled brown skin in front of him—Joe hunched over the counter with his back towards Booker—and a smile tugs at his face. “Shocked you made it up without me,” he laughs, making the other man turn over his shoulder with a bleary face.

“Need coffee,” Joe mutters, rubbing his eyes before yawning. “Nicky’s at store. Breakfast.”

Booker nods absentmindedly before crossing the kitchen and pressing a kiss to Joe’s shoulder. His skin is warm and tastes faintly like the thin sheet of sweat that covers them both, and Booker can’t help but take another mouthful.

A low moan dies in the back of Joe’s throat as he hangs his head, shoulders arching back against Booker’s mouth. “Fuck… _Book_ …” Joe groans as Booker nibbles his way across the long line of his traps. He presses his hips forward against Joe’s and wraps an arm around the older man’s stomach to keep them both from knocking into the wooden countertop. “F-Fuck…”

“How long do you think we have?” Booker asks breathlessly, reaching his free hand down to dig his fingers into the meat of Joe’s ass. All the other man is wearing are a thin pair of cotton shorts that Booker is pretty sure are Nicky’s running shorts, but they’re still too much of a barrier for him. He’s fully hard now, and knows Joe is just as desperate as he is for this.

Joe shakes his head and turns around in his grasp, cheeks flushed a dusky rose and dark eyes blown black with need. “Don’t know,” he pants, rocking up against Booker’s erection, “don’t care, just kiss me…”

How the hell could Booker deny a request like that?

He ducks his head a little as Joe tilts up to meet his mouth in a languid, heavy kiss. Joe tastes like sleep and mouthwash and soft early mornings like this one as Booker’s tongue slips into his mouth with practiced ease. It’s stopped being strange long ago, after that first night back in 1897 that Nicky had kissed him and Joe’s eyes had gone glassy as he fumbled for words to explain how much Booker meant to both of them, and it was now just the new normal.

A shudder runs through Joe’s body as Booker reaches a hand up to stroke over his neck, his chest, and pausing at a nipple to roll the bud in between his fingers. A rush runs through Booker’s own body as he pinches it sharply, eliciting a surprised gasp from the other man. His cock throbs in his underwear but all he wants is to taste as much of Joe’s body as he possibly can—his own needs be damned.

“I wanna suck you off,” he breathes, breaking the kiss just enough to nip Joe’s bottom lip. “Right here, Joe. Please…”

Joe nods shakily, eyes rolling back out of his head as his lashes flutter open. His chest is heaving, arms trembling as he braces one back against the countertop. “Okay, Book. Anything you want.”

Booker kisses him hard and deep for another minute, just for good measure, before trailing down the older man’s neck, sucking deep purple bite marks as he goes. They’ll disappear soon enough, but he loves to see them on both Joe and Nicky for even the briefest time they linger. Claiming his territory. Monuments to his love. Always a foundation, no matter what.

Sweat beads in the center hollow of Joe’s chest and Booker chases the saltiness away with his tongue before capturing one of Joe’s nipples into his mouth and sucking hard. Fingers tangle in his hair, tugging so sharply that Booker can feel the sparks fly down his spine to settle low in his stomach. “F-Fuck, Booker,” Joe whines, his brow furrowing as Booker trails lower and lower. Over his ribs, his abs, over the dip in his hipbones.

A mark. A bite. Another mark.

Finally, finally, Booker sinks to his knees in between Joe’s feet, pressing his nose into the warm crease between Joe’s thigh and groin and breathing in deep. He can fucking smell Joe’s arousal through his shorts and the scent is enough to make his head spin. Makes everything else fade away except the hitching rolls that the older man’s hips are making against his face. “Goddamn it,” Booker groans, muffled in fabric, before he bites down on the soft meat of Joe’s inner thigh. “Goddamn it, Joe, you have _no_ idea what you do to me.”

A soft, breathless laugh echoes above him, still tinged with sleepiness, and Joe rocks his hips forward a little. “Think I know a little bit,” he teases, “based on last night.”

Fuck, _last night._

Last night when Joe had fucked him through two mind numbing orgasms, Nicky sitting on his face and muffling every moan Booker had made. Last night when he had come so hard that he had forgotten how to breathe for a good minute and a half.

Booker laughs, his forehead pressed against the fine hair below Joe’s navel, before tilting his eyes up at the other man. “Still need to make it up to you,” he says, fingers dipping into the waistband of Joe’s shorts. “Maybe before Nicky comes home.” Joe’s hips lift off the counter as Booker slides the shorts down over his ass. “Or maybe he’ll watch me make you come.”

Joe’s eyes flutter and a shaky moan slips from between his lips as Booker pulls his shorts down to mid-thigh—not enough to remove them completely but just enough to allow him the space he needs.

There’s a damp spot along the seam and the thick thatch of dark curls between Joe’s legs is also slick and shining when Booker turns back to his heat. The sight of the flushed head of Joe’s dick extending past his pubic hair makes him so fucking impatient that Booker can’t help the low growl that rumbles deep in his chest before he stops wasting time and immediately wraps his lips around it.

“ _Ya Allah!_ ” Joe shouts, the unexpected rush of pleasure tearing through him hard enough that Booker has to grab onto his hips to keep him steady. His free hand tangles in Booker’s hair and tugs hard, as if Joe was trying to pull him closer than he already is. “ _Oh_ …Oh fuck, _Booker_ …”

He tilts his gaze up on Joe’s feverish face, watching the older man descend into pleasure as Booker works his tongue along the underside of his cock, sucking in short, intense bursts. He’s done this enough times to know what Joe likes, the constant pressure and suction versus tender or short licks. It’s taken practice and patience but there’s nothing like seeing half of his heart just lose himself in that indulgence. Booker will never grow tired of it—not in a thousand years.

The bittersweet tang explodes on his tongue and it’s nothing but the white-hot branding iron of Joe in the back of Booker’s mind. He buries his nose in those dark, wiry curls and hums in contentment, making Joe stutter through a gasp. “F-Fuck…yeah, Book, just l-like that…”

Bobbing his head minutely, Booker drags his lips over the short length before letting his tongue out to lap over the increasing wetness between Joe’s folds. The other man’s thighs are trembling on either side of his head, boxed in tight from the confines of his shorts, and the sounds that Joe’s making could easily make Booker come if he were a weaker man.

Pulling off just enough to work a thumb up along Joe’s length, slippery with spit and so hard that Booker can almost feel Joe’s throbbing heartbeat through it, he takes a moment to just watch Joe’s face. The way his brows pinch tight and his mouth falls open into a perfect ‘O’ as he gulps for air like a drowning man in between desperate moans. Booker keeps his gaze locked as he dives back in, with short, nipping sucks to the head that seem to make Joe fall apart even further.

A sharp thud echoes around the kitchen as Joe’s arm gives out and he falls back to his elbow, changing the angle of his hips. They’re tilted so perfectly against Booker’s mouth that he can feel Joe fucking dripping down his chin, thick and slick and sweet.

He takes a moment to be selfish, to tongue over every inch he can get to, just to feel Joe’s knees buckle and his cock twitch in Booker’s mouth.

“Do you want fingers or no?” Booker mumbles before closing his lips around the length of Joe’s dick again. He knows the other man doesn’t always want to be penetrated, doesn’t always want anything more than just a mouth around him, but it never hurts to ask.

But Joe nods feverishly, chewing on his lower lip before moaning, “Just two, just two, okay?”

Booker grins, hidden away in Joe’s heat, and wraps one arm underneath his ass to keep him steady. He trails his free hand up the inside of Joe’s thigh, teasing his fingers against the older man’s slick folds. A deep, rattling moan echoes above him as Booker’s index finger strokes over Joe’s entrance.

“Don’t—don’t be a fucking tease Sébastien,” Joe whines weakly, his head falling back to expose the long line of his throat.

“Mmm…don’t worry,” he hums, making sure his fingers are wet enough as he drags the moment out a little longer. Booker bobs on Joe’s length for a single, tortuous moment before pulling off with a smirk. “Won’t make you wait.”

And then he carefully sinks two fingers into Joe without another word.

This single perfect moment seems to hang in a balance for an eternity—Joe keening against him in a soundless cry as Booker draws his dick back into his mouth in a firm, unyielding suction. He crooks his fingers, drawing Joe closer with every motion, and closes his eyes as he loses himself in the pleasure.

Everything fades away but the heavy panting above him, the wetness slowly seeping down his fingers and knuckles, and the sweet taste of Joe on his tongue. His mind goes quiet and Booker barely even realizes how hard he is himself. Everything is just Joe.

He works his fingers in and out, every motion punching breathy moans out of Joe and stoking the burning flames deep in his stomach. Joe’s rocking up against his face, fucking his cock against Booker’s tongue and even his nose when he moves lower, and Booker’s glad his mouth is occupied because otherwise he’d end up embarrassing himself with the noises that he so desperately wants to make.

At this rate, he’s going to end up coming in his goddamn underwear before he even manages to get Joe off.

So Booker stops thrusting his fingers and just curls them quickly, searching for the spot that he knows will make the older man fall apart at the seams. He remembers the first time Joe let him do this—the first time Nicky showed him how, their fingers working together as Nicky whispered in his ear exactly what to look for. So when Booker’s fingers brush over the rough patch inside Joe, a bright light goes off in his head.

Bingo. _Found it._

“O-Ohhh—oh f-fuck, oh sh-shit,” Joe babbles, knees buckling when Booker works his fingertips roughly over that spot. His thighs tremble so much that Booker has to tighten his grip around his hips to keep Joe from collapsing completely. “Book, Book, _fuck_ , right there, oh shit…”

“Mmmm…” Booker mumbles, tonguing over the head of his dick. He continues the relentless rhythm of his fingers and finally opens his eyes, staring up at Joe’s lust-drunk face as he’s brought quickly to that peak. “Like this?”

Joe nods frantically, the flush in his cheeks bleeding down his neck and chest as he bears all his weight on his elbow to keep himself upright. “Yeah, right there—d-don’t stop, don’t fucking stop…” he moans through heaving breaths. “Sébastien, you’re g-gonna— _ahhh fuck_ —make me fucking c-come…”

Booker’s cock swells in the confines of his underwear, fabric sticking to his leaking erection, and all he wants is to watch that bliss wash over the other man’s face. Feel Joe tremble and throb in his mouth, taste his sweet release on his tongue.

The quick hooking motion of his fingers drowns out Joe’s babbling—the wet squelching sounds mixing with Booker’s lips and tongue. Joe’s hand comes down on the back of his head, pulling Booker’s face further into the curls between his thighs, and his voice sounds absolutely wrecked as he begs, “Oh…Sébastien, right—right there right there, oh Booker…” His tan thighs quiver, tightening around Booker’s head as a full-body shudder runs through him. “Oh God, _oh fuck_ —right—right t-there—you’re gonna make me _ahhh_ —”

Joe’s voice breaks off into a sharp cry as every muscle tightens and he curls around Booker, his orgasm tearing through him. Booker keeps crooking his fingers, even as he feels the older man’s walls fluttering and clenching around him, and sucks hard on his cock, tongue flickering over the tip. Wetness spills over his fingers and palm and it takes all his self control for Booker not to lap it up like he’s so desperate to do.

He sucks Joe through the aftershocks, through every trembling cry, and keeps fingering Joe until he feels a hand at his wrist, pushing his hand away as Joe pants, “T-Too much…”

Booker nods but keeps his oral ministrations going as he shoves the waistband down over his own cock. He moans at the relief as his erection is freed, burying his face in Joe’s wetness as he finally gets a hand around himself. The slickness on his fingers and palm makes Booker’s head spin even more than the twitching aftershocks of Joe’s dick in his mouth.

He only gets a couple strokes in before Joe’s fingers tighten in the hair at the nape of his neck, dragging him upwards. “Come here, Book, fuck,” Joe pleads, breathless and desperate.

It’s a struggle for Booker to get to his feet but he’s immediately graced with Joe’s perfect mouth on his own as their lips crush together in a heated kiss. He must look a mess—his lips and chin and beard shiny with wetness—and Booker’s mind goes fuzzy when he realizes that Joe can probably taste himself too.

The kiss is all teeth and tongue but it makes him melt anyway, even more-so when Joe wraps his long artist’s fingers around his own, stroking him in tandem. Booker’s breath stutters and he sinks his teeth into the older man’s lower lip before groaning, “Joe, shit, you can’t—”

Every thought, every protest in his mind dies as Joe urges him forward, guiding Booker’s cock between his legs. “Just like this,” he pants, rolling their hips together. “Just like this, okay?” Joe squeezes his thighs together, the slickness easing Booker’s way, and Booker knows he isn’t going to last long like this.

The angle is a little awkward and he has to bend his knees a little to keep from slipping out, even with Joe’s impossibly long legs, but the tight, wet heat of Joe’s thighs is so perfect that Booker has to brace a hand on the countertop to keep steady. “Good?” he rasps, eyes fluttering open as the word passes from his mouth directly into the other man’s.

Joe nods, panting against his lips, and reaches a hand down between them. He curls it around the underside of Booker’s cock, keeping him close but changing the angle enough that it makes them both moan. “Good. Better,” he says. “Just fuck me…”

Booker keeps a slow, deep rhythm to his thrusts, making sure to roll his hips up when he bottoms out in a way he knows is putting direct pressure on Joe’s dick. He lets out a shaky moan against the older man’s lips as Joe’s fingers brush just behind his testicles. “Fuck, don’t _do_ that…” he begs desperately.

“Do what?” Joe teases, nipping at Booker’s lower lip as his other hand caresses his chest. His fingers find a nipple and pinch it hard, throwing Booker’s thrusts off-tempo and making him gasp. “Want _this_ instead?”

Booker nods, pressing their foreheads together as he pleads, “Both, _both_ …fuck, Joe…”

They rock together in heated urgency, words failing them both as the kitchen floods with nothing more than the sounds of their heavy breathing. They’re not even kissing at this point—only sharing air as Booker fucks Joe’s thighs with increasing insistence. He’s so close that he can already feel the orgasm coiling inside his body like a spring, just waiting to let go. And Booker can tell Joe’s getting close again as well, the older man’s legs trembling as he grinds his cock against Booker’s slick shaft.

He forces his eyelids open and stares into the heavy-lidded brown eyes in front of him, brow furrowing as Booker asks, “You gonna come again?”

Joe doesn’t say a word but only manages a moan of affirmation, shifting the hand between them a little higher as Booker pulls back. As he thrusts forward, the change in angle makes his cock slip in between the velvety softness of Joe’s folds and Booker’s nails dig so hard into the countertop that he’s surprised he doesn’t crack them or the tile. His mouth drops open in a gasping groan as his other hand wraps around the back of Joe’s neck, keeping the other man as close as he can.

The head of his cock brushes over Joe’s entrance and Booker swears he sees fucking stars. “Oh f-fuck,” he stammers, his thrusts going shallow, desperate to hold onto this feeling as much as possible. “Fuck, you feel too good, darling.” Joe’s nails dig into his areola sharply and Booker throws all finesse out the window.

He ruts against Joe, the coil inside him growing tighter and tighter as the other man grinds against him just as needily. Everything inside Booker aches for release, barely able to hold on when Joe toys with his chest and groans, “I’m not going to last. I want to see you come, Sébastien. Be good for me, please…”

“You first,” Booker begs, no space between their hips as he crushes Joe back into the countertop. “God, you first, please.”

The older man’s face pinches tight in a mix of pleasure and frustration as he nods, accepting his fate as he grinds against Booker’s cock. Joe’s hand keeps them pressed together and there’s nothing but static noise in Booker’s head as Joe takes what he needs from him, unraveling for the second time this morning.

It’s quieter than the first one—Joe making almost no noise except for the choked gasp across Booker’s mouth as he shudders through a ruthless orgasm, clenching his thighs impossibly tighter. Booker swallows back his own moans as the sensation becomes overwhelming and everything inside him snaps, following Joe over the edge just a few short thrusts later.

He fumbles for his love’s mouth, pressing their lips together in an effort to steady both their breathing, but he knows it’s useless.

His balls tighten, the tension rolling up through his stomach as Booker comes so hard his vision whites out for a brief moment. A deep groan tears from his chest as his cock pulses against Joe, spilling into the confines of his thighs and deep into those damp, dark curls for what feels like an eternity.

A little death but what a death indeed.

The hand braced on the countertop shakes and his legs tremble and Booker’s not sure how either of them are still upright. Joe’s still shuddering through the aftershocks, hips twitching against his, and Booker can’t bear to bring himself to pull out of the sticky-slick wetness of the other man’s groin.

“I see you two finally decided to get up,” a voice says behind him, making Booker startle a little before he recognizes the soft, familiar timbre of an Italian accent.

A smile pulls at his mouth and his eyes flutter open just in time to see a matching expression crack across Joe’s bitten-red lips. He looks over his shoulder to see Nicky leaning against the doorway of the kitchen with crossed arms, a cloth grocery bag at his feet, eyes dark with heated lust. Booker raises an eyebrow when he sees the Italian’s erection straining at his jeans and wonders how long Nicky’s been watching them. “You were gone,” he says, still half-catching his breath. “Had to make due.”

“ _I_ just wanted coffee,” Joe teases, words still slurring together from sleep and the after effects of getting well-fucked. “Blame Book.”

Nicky feigns a disgruntled noise and uncrosses his arms, pushing himself off the door jamb and approaching them as silently as he had come. His broad hand curls around the back of Booker’s neck as he leans in and nips at the thin skin behind his ear. “What am I going to do with you?” Nicky murmurs, making goosebumps rise across Booker’s bare arms and shoulders. “Making a mess this early.”

Booker finally pulls his softening cock out from between Joe’s thighs and catches Nicky’s mouth in a brief but sharp kiss before he tucks himself back into his underwear. “To be fair,” he says, “ _Joe’s_ the one who’s a mess, not me.”

Nicky’s eyes drag over Joe’s body—the older man’s skin shiny with sweat and the crook of his thighs glistening with come—before narrowing in a glare. “ _Really_ Joe?” he sighs, unamused. “Are those my shorts?”

A smirk pulls on the corner of Joe’s mouth as he shimmies out of the bottoms and kicks them onto Nicky’s toes with one foot. “Might’ve been.”

Booker manages to catch the sparkle of amusement in the Genoan’s eyes before he grabs Joe’s chin and kisses him roughly. Joe melts just as easily under Nicky as he did with Booker and he’s almost a puddle when Nicky finally pulls away. “I’m going to have to clean all this up, you know,” he says, pulling Joe off of the counter and pushing him back toward the bedroom. “It’s going to take some time.”

A visible shudder rolls through Joe’s bare body as he steps back, dark eyes wild. He catches Booker’s heated gaze before asking, “So does this mean breakfast is going to have to wait?”

Nicky’s hand presses against the center point of Joe’s sternum, forcing him over the threshold and into the hallway. “You should’ve thought of that before ruining my favorite pair of shorts.” Nicky glances at Booker, wicked humor etched deep in his face as he tilts his head toward Joe. “Are you coming, _Libricino_?” he asks, the nickname making Booker’s face flush. “This is all your fault—you ought to help me.”

A smirk pulls on Booker’s mouth and he doesn’t need to be asked twice as he follows Joe and Nicky to their bedroom.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Comments and ♥️s are always appreciated!!


End file.
